


Pieces Overlapping

by theskywasblue



Series: Summer of Love 2020 [6]
Category: Lost Souls - Poppy Z. Brite
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: Steve wants everything of Ghost that it's possible to have.
Relationships: Steve Finn/Ghost
Series: Summer of Love 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816525
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Pieces Overlapping

**Author's Note:**

> As promised to dearest enabler dr_zook, for the Summer of Love prompt "first time." It ran away with me somewhat, but I'm sure that's probably okay, in the long run.
> 
> (Also, since a lot of this was written on my phone, if there's a strange typo somewhere I didn't catch, I apologize in advance.)

Steve buries his face in the pillow, testing the weight of his head against his folded arms underneath. 

“Comfortable?” Ghost asks. It sounds like he’s smiling. Steve’s face feels raw against the pillowcase, like he’s been scorched by the sun. 

“Yeah, I think so.”

The pillowcase smells like Ghost’s hair, oily and sweet; the same hair that tickles the backs of Steve’s shoulders as Ghost kisses his neck. Ghost’s hands smooth over Steve’s ribs, down his sides. If nothing else, Steve loves this: how gentle Ghost is, like he’s awed by Steve’s skin. 

“You don’t have to do it, you know.” Ghost says, rubbing his lips along the rise of vertebrae in the back of Steve’s neck. “If you don’t think you’ll like it. If you’re scared.”

_Scared_ isn’t the right word. Steve wants this, he absolutely does; so badly it feels like a knot in his guts. He wants everything of Ghost that it’s possible to have. He’s not worried about the act so much as the consequence: that he might finally run out of places to hide, even inside his own skin. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks, twisting his head back, pushing up on his arms to try and get a look at Ghost. “Ghost, did I ever hurt you?”

Of course, if the question is really _ever_ then the answer is going to be yes. They’ve known each other too long not to have left any marks behind. 

Still, Ghost says, “No,” and then, “not in a way I didn’t want.”

He strokes Steve’s thigh, kissing the track of his spine, his hair tickling like secret fingers all the way down. “I’ll slip it to you gentle,” he says, definitely laughing on the inside, now. Steve can feel the curve of his smiling mouth at the base of his spine. 

“You _fucker_ ,” Steve groans, dropping back to the pillow. “Don’t say it like that.”

Ghost huffs a broken-off laugh against Steve’s skin, then drags his tongue over the divot just above Steve’s ass, and Steve’s brain turns to radio static for a solid minute, until he hears Ghost say, softly, “It’ll be cold sorry.”

The first couple of times they did this, they used whatever they had around - a lot of spit, or cheap hotel lotion - until Steve, horny and a little drunk in a shit-stain town in Florida, stole lube from a poorly-tended pharmacy, and discovered it was so, so much better. Maybe he had been planning for this, even then; though he’s sure he never thought much about it until a few hours ago. 

Either way, he’s glad for it now, cool against his overheated skin. 

At first, it isn’t much of anything. He’s not sure if it feels good or bad - it’s just strange. A little intrusive maybe, but not really different from any other way that Ghost might touch him; shivery-sweet, only this time from the inside out. That thought - the Ghost is _inside_ him, touching him in a place otherwise beyond reach - is almost more exciting than the touch itself. He thinks of the way Ghost feels around his fingers when they do things the other way, quivering and soft, tender and alive. It makes Steve’s skin buzz softly, makes his balls ache. Steve drags one leg up the bed a little, gets a hand down underneath himself to give his half-hard dick a few, curious touches. 

Ghost hesitates, “Do you want me to-“

“Nuh-uh. Just...keep going, alright? Keep going.”

There’s _something_ \- enough to put Steve’s teeth on edge; but he forces himself to pull his hand away from his dick and push it under the pillow again. He wants to feel this, and only this; but it’s not until Ghost puts a second finger inside that Steve understands what he’s been waiting for. 

It aches, but it’s not really pain. Steve feels instantly warm; he can feel it radiating out from where Ghost is pushing his long fingers slowly inside Steve’s body. It spreads down into his balls, and up his spine, into his brain. It feels like a hit of...of Steve’s not even fucking sure what. Ghost is kissing across his back and slowly - so slowly - fucking Steve with his fingers. Each touch of his mouth on Steve’s skin is its own, sweet spark. 

“Ghost - ah - fuck.” It’s not enough to get him off, not really; but it’s almost too good anyway. Steve’s skin feels too tight, and when he rocks his hips into the bed it makes his breath catch his throat. When Ghost’s fingers suddenly leave his body, he’s left shaking all over, his mouth gone dry from gasping against the pillowcase. 

Ghost stretches over him, presses his nose against Steve’s temple, his breath hot and unsteady against Steve’s cheek. Steve can feel Ghost’s hard on, right there against his inner thigh, solid and eager. 

“Ghost wait! Wait - I -“ Ghost goes still against his back, pinned by a fear that Steve didn’t want, but he has to suck in a long breath anyway, swallow to wet his throat before he can finish. “I wanna...turn over.”

Ghost kisses the corner of his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Can I?” He thought it would be easier, safer the other way - that he could just press himself into the bed and let it happen, get whatever crazy impulse this was out of his system for good. But the truth is, he would rather crack his ribs open and let Ghost crawl inside. 

Ghost doesn’t say anything, just lifts his weight so Steve can roll over and plant his back on the lumpy mattress. The minute he's settled, he reaches for Ghost with shaking hands, pushing the tangle of hair away from Ghost’s face. 

“Showed you mine. You gotta show me yours.”

Ghost laughs, raggedly. His eyes are huge and colourless in the dark, his face flushed pink as he presses a hand up behind Steve’s knee, easing it back. “We never played that game.”

“Cuz I was too chickenshit.” He doesn’t feel chickenshit now, though. Steve hooks his foot around Ghost’s hip, palms the back of his neck. There’s a tremor in Ghost’s shoulders, and in his hands - both the one gripping Steve’s leg, and the one wrapped around the base of his own cock.

“C’mon, Ghost,” Steve tugs him forward, breath escaping in a shocked gasp as he feels the head of Ghost’s cock catch against him, right where it’s meant to slide inside. “I wanna feel it like this.”

Ghost makes a low, broken noise, drops his head, and pushes forward. Steve’s glad he can’t see it - Ghost disappearing inside him, a little at a time - just feeling it wrecks him: the heat, the pressure, the slow, relentless slide. All of Steve’s nerves are shooting off like fireworks, and each time he breathes out there’s a sound that comes with it, no matter how hard Steve tries to stop himself.

And then, he feels Ghost’s thighs press against his ass.

“Oh - fuck,” Steve groans, grabbing a fistful of the sheets. It’s too much, too far; but when Ghost starts to pull back, Steve grabs at him without thinking, hands desperately clutching at his sweaty skin. “Ghost - Ghost please. Oh _fuck_.”

“I know,” Ghost shudders, and then he’s moving, fucking into Steve; slowly, at first, watching where their bodies join together. Steve tries to match his breathing to the rhythm, letting the way it feels wash over him. Each time Ghost pushes into him it gets easier and easier, blurring them together at the edges. It’s almost as an afterthought that Steve gets his hand around his own cock where it’s lying heavy against his belly. He drags the heel of his hand up the underside of it, rubs his thumb over the head, amazed at what a mess it is, puddling onto his belly like he’s already come. 

Ghost is saying something - a spill of words that Steve can’t quite hear over the rush of blood in his ears. He pushes deep inside, just right, and Steve swears he feels his body crack open, clean down the middle, with too much sweet, good, weightless feeling to hold in anymore. 

Ghost rocks one, two, three times more, gasps, then curls himself over Steve, their mouths touching, not kissing, but breathing the same air, wet and hot. The muscles of Ghost’s back tremble under Steve’s hands, and Steve’s brain feels hollow, completely scrubbed clean as he licks dreamily into Ghost’s mouth, coaxes him into a slippery kiss. 

“Hey,” he smooths Ghost’s hair back, kisses him again and again. He wants to feel as much good as he can, before the ache sets in. “Hey - what were you saying?”

Ghost rubs his nose against Steve’s, sucks at his lower lip. His eyes are closed and there’s moisture gathered in tiny droplets on his long eyelashes. “I wasn’t.”

Steve’s ears are still buzzing, faintly. “I heard it.”

Ghost kisses him, like an apology for the fact that they have to move apart again. Steve hates that part, instantly. “Maybe you did. But I didn’t say anything.”

“I wanna hear it again, then,” Steve insists, pressing his mouth against Ghost’s eyelids, and over the bridge of his nose. “Let me hear it again.”

-End-


End file.
